Intermission
by EvelioandZgroup
Summary: Carrie has always been the ideal of gossip and back-talking when the subject of Gumball comes along. Now, on Valentine's Day, things seem to be going wrong, and not the way you would think. Carrie doesn't like Gumball, but others believe they are, but bad things are happening to her out all the days in the year. A black comedy, featuring some notable OCs. We're gonna be fine...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my name is EvelioandZgroup... Well, this is embarrassing. This supposed to be uploaded on Valentine's Day and be your present for me coming back with a story... Apparently I'm far from my due date, but let's not tempt fate. Anyway, let's talk about Valentine's Day.**

**(You may skip this WHOLE INTRODUCTION if you please and get on with the story.)**

**We all know it's day for love, but over the years we'd seem to forgotten how we should celebrate it. I'm not talking about dances or gifts, but rather how we approach it, last minute, of course. I've seen people always complaining they have no date for this holiday and girls say the same thing. But what's so strange is that sometimes we let ourselves be fooled into believing we'll find love that day when it's really about appreciating those around you.**

**I'm saying friends and family should get recognition, as well as people you want to have a connection.**

**Enter corporations who tell you that gifts of chocolates or cards or whatever bullshit they tell you to buy will make your crush love you forever. Surprisingly, we let ourselves believe this and never look back at how much we spend on this.**

**Anyway, the moral of my speech is simply beware of love, because it can be fake.**

**But enough of this corny shit, let's talk about this new story: Intermission.**

**Actually this is very different from my original story under the same name. It's way more fun to read and does have more inappropriate language to it.**

**So, here is a censored version of my original story. **

**If you want the original, uncensored and uncut, it will be available for free (yes, for FREE! Something Mr. Krabs would never do.) as it's not a fan fiction. It's a deep story about the looks of lust and young love approaching what can influence us in the right or wrong direction.**

**But still, the short version: A black comedy about love.**

**Also, I had to keep up with continuity as the show has changed a lot.**

**So this version has made changes to the plot to keep up with the world of Gumball's.**

**Hope you enjoy, and may a fire-reigning of minions eat your flesh and devour your young, as haters who want me OFF the site are never getting that wish. I'm here to stay, and hopefully this EDITED VERSION will you please until I release the ORIGINAL VERSION for free, and it's originally NOT A FAN FICTION, so the rights of this story belongs to me. **

**Side-note, if you see grammar errors, well, that's to be expected and I'm already fully aware of that so try to get by.**

**Hope you enjoy, and there are OCs included here. Try to find as many as you can throughout the whole story.**

**Enjoy.**

Intermission

By

EvelioandZgroup

For MidnightDarknessFall,

She doesn't take crap.

1

I think—No, I _know_ that Masami and Molly talk behind my back. It's mostly the gossip ("You think she's _with_ someone?" says Masami), but this time it got more detailed ("Do you think she's with _Gumball?_"). Gumball Watterson was just a good friend, no lips, no tongue, and no googly eyes.

_No sex?_

_Definitely_ no sex.

Gumball was in love with Penny Fitzgerald. She was the head cheerleader, who's a good friend of mine, too, never stooping down to the usual middle school standard. I know this because she would always look for the best in someone, regardless of what was told or shown to her—ElmoreStream has a way of getting Elmore Junior High known for goofy fights (I swear those guys can't fight for crap) and catfights that looked more like lesbians dry humping each other, rather than being called a fight; I remembered in January this big, fat cow—I think that was her nickname, honestly—and weighed about 400 pounds, minimum, against this short, trashy blonde-haired cow—though I'm not sure she was a cow—with piercings—which just could have been tags from farms, maybe—who weighed about 300 pounds, tops, and was nearly smothered to death in the snow when the big, fat cow jumped on her with her fat-ass (this sounds trashy, I know, but screw it, the truth hurts) in the snow while 60% if the school watched, a couple of teacher even placed bets. Always the bad ones, I know. They called it "Cow Vs. Ghetto Cow."

Anyway, back to Gumball.

He's just a friend. Period—though he's not a very good friend, honestly. A lot of people thought (actually, come to think of it, still do) Gumball and I had a thing going on. Probably a friends-with-benefits thing, they would say, they would _frickin'_ say a lot.

His brother Darwin thought so, too. He seemed pretty mad about it. I always have seen him kind of against me, like how everyone sees me. But I always doubted it since he was pretty naïve and nice to people. He's kind and sweet, and I don't think he would hurt a fly. But his problem is he just cares too much. He once dated Masami and ended badly for him, and he ended up with the whole it's-true-love phase and thankfully it died out.

Like Darwin, Gumball didn't have a girlfriend. Sure, I knew very much he liked Penny, hell, everyone knew, but not many knew she liked him back. I figured out when she still stood by his actions and actually showed a sense of love for him. Maybe it's because they're good friends, but I argue that the fact remains the two don't talk a lot. Even after Tobias' so-called party, they tend to still bond over such things.

Darwin, however, surprised me when he came up to me at my locker and asked me if Gumball and I ever had a thing going on. I think he believed Masami's lies before ever proving them. I felt a little embarrassed he asked me this, but I still stood my guard.

"Does it really matter to you?" I asked.

"I just want to know if it's true, Carrie."

_Do you want to believe it's true or simply just a delusion?_

"You say it like I have feelings for him."

"Do you?"

I had to open my mouth.

"Yes, Darwin. I feel sorry for him. He has chosen someone that he believes is his true love when he is only twelve and the girl he loves is just an-antlered peanut."

"Jeez," he said, almost disgusted by my remark, "harsh."

"To who? You?"

"I just wanted to know how you felt about this. That's all."

"I feel fine, Darwin. Now _fuck _off."

He left, only for Gumball to pop out just a few minutes later.

He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "You feel good?"

I didn't interpret it as a question the first time I heard him, so I called him a pervert, thinking it was Mark, a modern Peeping Tom, as I like to call him. Knowing Gumball, he laughed at this.

"Hey, take it as a complaint, you're dead. I'm surprised you can feel anything."

"Yeah, I can still grab this book and smack you across the face and make you hurt yourself like you did on the playground when you were in your karate phase."

He smiled and laughed. He seemed okay with all this.

"Okay, okay. Small talk—Carrie, I just wanted to ask you if you were all right about this, you know?"

"Darwin asked me the same thing. I don't mind."

Well, yeah, but I mean like how's the day for you, how you feeling—?"

I didn't think he was listening, so I said, "So far I could see myself in twenty years being asked by you when am I going to eat something and stop being so rude to the people who made all this food for us."

I thought he would laughed at this, but he remained silent; however, he smiled and said, "Come on, tell me the truth. Some people are telling me that you were upset about not getting the part in the school play."

_School play?_

"I didn't evem sign up for tryouts, so you can already tell them they're liars, and they're just jealous that I have more emotion than those _lifeless bimbos._"

He laughed, always did have a good sense of humor, my opinion. "You know you're a funny girl, right?"

"Yep. I got to be funny since, by your standards, I got no body to show off."

"Or sense of humor," he said, making me laugh this time.

"Yeah, and by the way, do me a favor and settle the score between this rumor that I'm upset about this whole school play thing. I never even heard about it until now. Masami is probably just mad that the lead went to someone else."

"Yeah, it went to Penny."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, she tried out and...she was _amazing!_"

I forced a smile and said, "Well, good for you. And also, some people are also bringing up how I have a _thing_ going on with you. They keep on saying that I liked you and such."

"But is it true?"

"Heck, I don't know, it was a—"

"No, I meant if you _liked_ me."

I didn't say anything for a while. I got mad that he just asked me that. I didn't think he would believe such a lie told by Masami. But I thought back to how he could just look down on me, since he did have a somewhat massive ego, but it never paid off. But at least he wasn't Tobias, acting like he was a ladies' man or something.

"Do _you_ think it's true?"

"No."

"Then what the hell are you standing here when you could be buying some flowers for a prettier, brighter girl that isn't dead or forcing you to commit to a lifetime of damnation."

He smiled, maybe even laughing. He finally left, leaving me all alone in the school hallway. It's empty; nobody is here, except me. Asshole.

* * *

Valentine's Day is today, and a lot of people are going to get really at it today. I expect to see girls holding giant teddy bears while guys buy condoms to (or try) "get it in." I've seen too many on-and-off couples react to the usual I-break-up-with-you-because-you're-not-right-for-me routine during the week but get back together on Valentine's Day because they don't want to be alone and say the break up was a mistake and ignore the date they started going back together and just stay with the first time they went out. The reason behind this: They don't want to be humiliated on Valentine's Day for being alone. Valentine's Day is either a loving (they say) or depressing day for people. To me, it's frickin' ridiculous that the one day of the year that was suppose to be about love, is now just a day to spend on expensive gifts that will end up in the trash within the week; however, it's just like every major holiday nowadays—companies' slogan for consumers: Buy something special for your love. You got to buy not make. If you don't buy your love this particular gift, she will leave you, making you look like a poor joke. It's nothing more than a day to spend rather than love your lover (and that saying is just as corny and true as it sounds).

I mean, my God (even if I don't believe in religion), this whole day is plastered with the economy suffering in debt, and yet we fuel corporations to the point the value of a dollar is just an antique saying, when you can get something really good for a dollar but choose to ignore it.

I went to school early to get some things out of my backpack so my locker in gym wouldn't be too crowded. On my way there I saw the floor and hallways getting their "love" treatment ("Just for the holidays, thank you.") and dazzled with pink.

I made it to my locker, but when I opened it something fell out. I picked it up and it was a white letter. I swear to God (fuck off if you got a problem with me saying that) if it was a promotional flyer for some religion I may or may not have heard of, I'm going to punch someone in the nuts. I opened it up and I held a small index card that said:

I like you. Do you like me? Yes or No?

My response: Who the _fuck_ are you, kid?

I found another letter that were two tickets to the school's Valentine's Day dance.

I put it back inside the envelope, left it in my locker, and walked out to the girls' bathroom. Some creep, I tell you.

* * *

Sarah was a good friend of mine, at least in my opinion. She's a tomboy, yet she can really look attractive, in the most odd kind of way. She moved here from some town I had already forgotten about, but that didn't matter. She was a pink cat with blonde hair that was more dirty and messy, yet she pulled it off.

Anyway, back to my life

I tried to figure out who send me that letter. I don't think it will be too hard to find out who did it. I mean, hell, only ten people know who I am, or at least exist, including teachers. But that does strike me as a good reason why it couldn't be someone I know. They didn't put their name, so it could be possible they don't know who I am. Hell, the handwriting didn't seem like someone I knew.

I had to find who it was or—Ah, screw it! Leave it be. That sucker will die out from no response, and I can forget all about it.

I finished my business and left.

* * *

Carmen spotted me before I changed into my PE uniform. She was definitely someone I didn't want to see today. She has (or had, only time will tell) an on-and-off relationship with Alan, and, oh my God, she is such a dumbass. I mean, Alan is a simple guy (who just happened to be a blue balloon), but she likes to be the one in control and maker Alan her "chew-toy" 'cause she likes to bite. How do I know this? Well, because this cactus tells everyone, and I mean _everyone_, douchebags and bitches, about her love-life. It seems to grow onto Alan, but I feel he doesn't really enjoy it as much. I can believe that maybe he just forces himself to like it because he knows he doesn't have that many options left.

She comes to me to talk about her problems. It's a complete waste of time, and what's worse she's a pest; I can't shake her off if I wanted to. She just stays on you like a leech.

She came up to me and said, "Hey girl," like I was a good friend—dumb bitch doesn't know my name—I nodded. "Did you hear the big news?"

"What news?" I said, knowing that if I said something else she would ignore it, putting on my shoes.

"Well," she began with a smirk on her face, "where do I begin?" She would probably tell me how she's single and say how Alan is an insecure asshole who tortures her and crap, and the reason she's saying this is most likely because he refused to do something she wanted him to do.

"Say it now before we both come in late."

"Well," she said, puckering her lips with her new shade of lipstick, trashy red, "Alan and I are taking it to the next level."

What's the next level after this? Sex?

"Which is?"

"He gave me a promise ring."

Okay, now _he's_ a dumb bastard.

"Why?"

She groaned, saying it's because he loves her. _Nope,_ I would have said_, he just wanted some cactus juice, if you know what I mean._

After I shoved my backpack inside the small locker, she told me now that I didn't have to change since we have a sub.

"Why didn't you tell me when I was changing? Hell, when you came in, I didn't even take out my clothes yet?" Now I was cold for no reason, even that's how I feel the majority of the time, but that's not the point.

"Oh, _Kathy_, not everything is about you."

She left.

That frickin' bitch doesn't even know my name and pulls this shit on me. I hope to God she cheats on him and carries someone else's baby. Let him be free.

* * *

The first wave of cards, chocolate, and big teddy bears come up on first period PE with our teacher Miss Lyman, about mid-30s I believe, leaving us for the day to call in sick, but rumors are already speculating that she just left to be on a date with a woman named Sheryl. I don't know how people come up with these rumors, yet they always seem reasonable. Regardless, when I entered the gym, I can already see a crowd of girls holding onto their gifts and talking about how their boyfriends (or girlfriends, but they don't really get that much attention, even some guys got some chocolate hearts or a teddy bear and hold it like a badge) got them these with love—and just for about $25—and laughed gleefully.

I went over to an empty spot on the bleachers that slide off the wall for the crowds during the basketball game against schools (we have a winning streak, but last year we won only for it to be taken away when some students were allowed to play when they were failing classes). Because I didn't know there was a sub, Mr. Granger, who gets little respect from the students ("Bite my ass, bitch." "Why don't you go back to your country?" "When was the last time you laid, the 70s?"), I didn't have a book to read, so I was forced to listen to the girls going on and on about their upcoming dates tonight or the Valentine's Day dance today and all that trash.

It's Friday, and still I can't get a good day to relax.

Idaho from Geometry asked me who was my Valentine for the evening.

I said his mom was and he left me alone for the day.

* * *

After the bell rang and about two catfights later (turns out two girls both got a Valentine's Day bear the same time, resulting, instead of a talk to the guy and breakup with the cheating bastard, they fought each other to say he's their man, and another fight between two gay guys with the same scenario about a guy giving the two of them a Valentine's Day gift and fight over each saying he's their man), I went to my locker to put away my PE uniform and grab my books for class. It wasn't easy, though; fighting through a crowd of girls holding gifts and going in the opposite direction they're going in, and I'll say that's tough than going through a football and trying to score a touchdown.

I opened it and out came a letter, again. Hoping it was just the same letter, I found out it wasn't. It was red, and held another index card that said:

_You see me almost every day, Carrie._

_I hope you'll answer._

My initial reaction: This asshole just broke into my locker to gently rest a letter for me to see, when he couldn't take a hint. I just hope this person is mentally capable of letting this go or else I'm going to have some blood on my hands.

* * *

I don't believe you need a psychologist or a therapist to understand what's wrong with yourself. I believe it's just choice, nothing more. We have to understand that maybe, just maybe, we all take in crap every once in a while and should try to at least see something beyond our usual routine.

I think we just have to take one step beyond.

**My name is EvelioandZgroup, and I'm signing off.**

**~ EvelioandZgroup**


	2. Chapter 2

**Side-Note: The plot changes that have occurred is the because I want to stay true to continuity. Enjoy.**

During English, I tried to figure out who got into my locker and wrote those notes. To be honest, not many wrote in cursive anymore. I did when I was in third grade, but not really anymore. It's almost a dying art.

Tobias tapped my shoulder and asked me for a pencil. I told him that I lend him a pencil yesterday and asked what happened to it.

"I lost it," he said, almost as if he had no shame.

"How did you lose _my_ pencil?"

"Sorry, I get busy, and one minute—POOF! It's gone."

I muttered under my hand, "motherfucker," under a cough and told him I won't lend him a pencil anymore.

He looked pissed.

"Come on, don't be a _bitch_."

"Wha—I'm a _bitch?_ Why? Just because I refuse to give you another pencil, when it shows you can't take care of one? What, that what I'm doing isn't a rational response? Is that what you're saying? I'm just a bitch?"

He looked at me as if I spat smart-girl logic on him when he's a big man who can take care of himself. Punk-ass, that's what he is.

"Forget it, Carrie. I'll someone else."

After that, I had to concentrate on my work for English. It wasn't hard or anything, but definitely left out all the rhyme and reason to it. We had yet another sub and had to do a Valentine's Day crossword puzzle. I thought our teacher Mr. Keaton would attempt to sneak out for an early start for Valentine's Day for second period, but it turns out he fell down the stairs on the way here because of the snow and ice, so he couldn't make it.

Bummer.

I saw Sarah all alone, and she was the only one I actually felt calm with. She was shy and had transferred to our school in September. She was an ice cream cone for a yellow scoop of some "yellow-ish" flavor with red flips. I remember her enough in this class as the teacher calls her name, but even at times they forget. She hasn't made many friends, but she does keep herself company. She says that she would like to be a comedienne, or at least be the star of a comedic sitcom of everyday life. I felt she could do it. She certainly does bring in her own jokes, paying homage to sitcoms in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and even the 90s, saying those were the best years for comedy TV. Not many saw success in her, not even the teachers, but I felt like if she needed support, she's got my help.

I decided to scoot my seat over to the desk next to her; the sub wouldn't mind since they usually never get a seating chart.

I said hi to her, and she chuckled with her cheeks glowing red, surprised to see anyone talking to her today.

I looked on her paper and saw that she was drawing hearts next to a blue figure, yet I wasn't able to see it much of it when she flipped the paper over immediately as I came over. I thought about how she was still new and still had time getting used to the school.

She asked me what brought me here.

I told her that I needed some help with the crossword puzzle and wanted to see if she had any of the answers done.

"Well, I haven't started yet."

"It's okay. Want me to help?"

"Y-You would do that?"

"Sure. Why not? It's a free country, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't ask for help when you need it. I'm Carrie, by the way."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"Sarah, come on, no excuses. If you need help, all you got to do is talk to someone. That's it. You need help, just ask me."

I felt good letting her know that I can help her when I saw she smiled back. It really does show how one person can make you smile.

"Well," she began, "I like this guy."

My face seized at that response. Of course I knew, hell, everyone did, but that wasn't what I meant by help.

"And, I don't even know his name, but he doesn't have a girlfriend. I can be the girl he wants if he lets me."

I screwed myself over here. I had to open my mouth and show some damn compassion, and now I may be the next school's counselor, and I would be doing my job, unlike the ones here.

"Sarah, I don't think you should be this black-and-white about it. I mean—you don't know this guy's name."

"Well, maybe you do. He's a blue cat with five whiskers, wearing a tan sweater with black pants—"

"Gumball?"

"Carrie, I know how it looks like. But I can tell there is a connection. i saw it in his eyes. They are the windows to the soul, no matter how cheesy it sounds. I know this can be true. It can happen if he just lets it."

"I don't think I like tone."

"Carrie, I'm not a bad person. I just want to be loved as I love them."

"Yes, but love is mutual. You can't expect someone to love you back just because you love them."

"Ah ha, but I never said I loved him."

"But you didn't deny it."

"Neither did you."

"About what?"

"The rumors about you and Gumball."

"Did I have to? I never saw anyone complaining about it. Not even Penny."

"Then you should hear what she says about you during swim meets."

"What do you mean? You don't swim."

"No, but," she began, looking across from both side and came close, "suppose I tell you that Penny thinks of you a little girl with problems. I'm sorry, but I really hate telling you this, and I'll stop here."

I don't think I can believe here. Hostility can be a problem for someone with issues. I let her be and went back to my desk. I decided to put my energy on the puzzle. Finished it in about five minutes, leaving me about twenty-five to do nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

3

After English ended, I decided to go outside to find a place to ease my nerves. I never did like eating at lunch, but I miss being there, sometimes. Not because of the food, (though I do miss eating, regardless if it wasn't a choice) but because of Gumball and Darwin. We weren't close or anything, but when I decided to go to the cafeteria, Gumball would at times wave his hand and pat an available seat next to him. I went and would talk to him and Darwin, but then after ten minutes, Penny would come, Gumball's attention would go to her, while I talked to Darwin until the bell rang and we would go our separate ways.

Now, I seem like a dark horse, even when I was on top.

I went to my locker to get my coat and gloves out, when suddenly Masami pops out of nowhere and asked me where I was going. I felt like punching this bitch in the face till her fat-ass dies from blood loss.

"Outside."

"With Gumball?" she said sounding like a smart-ass correcting you and proud.

"No, he's with Darwin."

"Really?" she said. "That's funny, because I heard a lot of strange things going between the two of you. Maybe it has something to do with Penny. I feel like it's my duty to warn her about _white trash_."

"I bet you it took about a year to say something like that and barely say it right, especially since it's coming from _white_ trash."

"Says you, but they are not speaking to each other. And Penny is sitting in the cafeteria, alone. Gumball went out for some 'fresh air.'"

"And you would know that how?"

"I have my ways."

"Of course, he didn't want to smell your bullshit and get infected with whatever disease your slutty-ass got from the nearest truck driver's dirty dick."

"_Harsh-harsh._ I would have thought a trashy homewrecker would have more respect than to talk smack to a young lady."

"Why don't you just _fuck_ off or else I'm kicking your ass."

"Oooh, I'm really—"

I punched her in the face with my book, and I saw that she was bleeding heavily from her nose. It all went down her white scarf and went down further to her skin (or whatever you call it). She tried getting up, but kept falling, which begs the question how.

"_You—Stupid...God! This hurts!"_

I grabbed my coat and locked my locker before she gets any funny ideas. Maybe she will bleed to death.

* * *

I decided to go to the library and get a book to read. The library wasn't far; it doesn't even take five minutes to walk there.

I crossed the street from school and got there in less than two minutes.

In the library, the librarians knew me, but I can't say that's all in good faith. I always had some sort of late fee and I was able to pay it off, eventually. If I had to guess how much I paid the library in total, I'd say about $1,500. Back then, movies were expensive to pay for late fees, and I checked out a lot of movies during that time. I kept going to the library since I was five and haven't regretted it since.

I went through the scanners and saw Dolores, or Miss Filcher, some liked to call her. She was nice enough to lay off some fees, and if she didn't I would have paid two grand for all of it. Which is fun to see that coming from a golden retriever, and she looks nice today.

"How's Valentine's Day going for you, Carrie?"

"Single, yet still sassy," I said, even if it's cheesy, I still can enjoy talking that way with her.

"I'll bet," she said, giving me an encouraging smile. I always enjoyed seeing that.

She looked down and saw that my book had blood on it and gasped, "Goodness," she said, like an elderly woman, even though she was in her mid-30s, "what happened to the book?"

"I can't really explain, without getting _too_ embarrassed,_ if_ you know what I mean."

Menstrual cycles are bitches, but nobody has to know that I don't get them.

She brought some sanitary wipes and cleaned it. It was mine, but it didn't matter as much, yet even if it wasn't the library's books, she still offered to help clean it.

After that, I went over to the K section to see if any books or authors interested me.

Nothing.

I went out and checked to see if a computer was available, and it was. I logged in my library card number at this computer they still use to appoint future users who wants to place a "reserved spot" for when they want to use a computer later on during their visit. I mean, people can just go onto whatever computer is available and simply put in their library card number and use it till their term runs out. I still use it since I like knowing there's a spot waiting just for me.

A receipt came out and said I had to take CB-241.

I shoved the receipt in my pocket, and I decided to browse again at the K section, but I got bored too quick, so I ended up going to the computer earlier than expected.

When I logged on, I decided to see some videos online, just some stupid shit, and browsed the web—and old saying as time itself—until—

"Hey Carrie," a voice yelling rather than speaking. I knew who it was the minute my ears heard that voice.

It was Lexy, a twelve-year-old pink cat, like Gumball if he were more of a wimp.

She isn't a bad person, far from it, but she can be so goddamn annoying. I'm not saying her voice is annoying (though it can easily be identifiable, like seeing the Mona Lisa). The problem is that she's just everywhere. And I mean everywhere—you turn your head to the left, she's there talking about life is great, you turn to the right, she's there with a helping hand of whatever the fuck you _didn't_ need help on. She's been like this since we freshman year, and immediately I didn't want to get too close. But she always seemed to find a way to get to Gumball and I, but since I wasn't there at the cafeteria, I thought she would just bug Gumball.

Lucky me, I got stuck with her.

"I didn't know you went to the library," she said, leaving her mouth open with a smile, clingy bitch.

"Yeah, surprise-surprise—I just got here because I didn't want to spend time at school."

"So you're ditching?" she said, sounding so shocked and worried, like she found out I was doing drugs or having sex for money.

"No, this is my lunch period."

"Oh thank God!" she started to laugh and say, "For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to tell on you."

"Well, no sense of breaking the rules when you're eventually going to get caught."

"_Yes,_ you get it."

"Yeah, well, how's it going?"

"It's going good. I'm pretty happy today. I got some big news that I didn't even know about, and yet I didn't even expect to figure this out. Do you want to hear it?"

"Blab away, my friend."

"Okay, well, you know Gumball?"

"Yeah, what about him."

"Well," she began, and then closed in to my ear and said softly, "Gumball's my _brother_."

I backed away when she said that, feeling more horrified than shocked.

"What do you mean he's your brother?"

"My mom told me that my dad cheated on my mom with Gumball's mom, Nicole, but she didn't know he was married and was barely maybe a week in the pregnancy, and he died in a car crash. She said he just couldn't take it anymore and he got drunk one night and…well—drunk driving kills, huh? During that time, when she was she really depressed she hooked up with her high school sweetheart, Richard, and together they raised together Gumball, who they thought was their son. Isn't that a bunch of_ shit?_ Funny thing was that I finally told her about Gumball. About how we had a _thing_ going on, way before I knew about his crush on Penny"—What did I tell you? "Everybody knows."—"two years, I think, and she told me the truth today when I found a picture of my dad and Nicole together. I know it was her since I saw her before. And now I have to live with what Gumball and I did together."

I didn't know what to say, and the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "You say it like you did something bad."

She smiled, with tears building up. She just slowly shook her head and said, "You have no idea, Carrie. This has been building up for some time now. And I'm glad I got it off my chest."

I hesitated, but eventually I held up my arms to give her a hug and she quickly went in for it and softly cried onto my shoulder. I said it's okay, but, then again, it's easier said than done.

* * *

I decided to walk her back to school, at least giving her some time to cool off, and by the time we got out the library, she seemed better now. Hell, she was already annoying with useless info that made the two minutes back seem like a boring class period.

She stuck her hands out from the sides when we crossed the street, almost as if God was catching her from falling, but I was the one catching her. She had her eyes closed the whole way, but when we reached the end of the street, we were merely just a couple of seconds away from the doors, and all we had to do was pass by the bus stop. It's been there every since students came here from all around town, so a bus now comes to both drop off and pick up people to get them home.

I noticed now that Lexy was on the street while I still maintained my edge of the curb, and I said, "You're not on the sidewalk."

She stopped and faced me, saying, "I know."

"What do you mean you know—?"

The bus ran past, causing some blood to splash on my face, kind of like an old gory horror film.

I didn't say a single thing.

I blacked out for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

4

I don't think it's realistic for the school to not cancel for the day when someone has just been ran over.

But that's the way it went. There's no easier way to put it. I just can't believe it happened.

I woke up in the nurse's office, with two policemen waiting for me, and one approached me. I barely had my eyes opened, but they were eager to get this out of the way.

"Hello," he said. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"How would I know?" I muttered, still feeling dizzy. I can feel a massive headache creeping in; most likely a vein can be popping out of my head if my hair wasn't in the way.

"Do you remember what happened earlier today?"

"Aren't you going to tell me who you are, sir? My mom said never talk to strangers."

He smiled, almost chuckling, "I'm Officer Peterson, and that's my partner Waters over there."

"Tom," he said, "if you'd like."

I smiled at Tom, apparently not being bothered by this day, not one bit…I wish I wasn't so suspicious, but—

"Can you tell us what happened to her?" Peterson said, giving me his full attention now.

"You mean with Lexy?"

"Is that who she was?"

"Yeah, Lexy Collins. Why? You weren't able to…"

"Your friend was heavily damaged by the impact of the bus. Normally it wasn't going fast, but your friend's face hit the edge of the bus so hard that, well, we weren't able to trace it back to who she was. We couldn't find traces of who she was; there were no IDs, driver's license, nothing. What you told us is helping us so far.

"Do you think you could tell us anything that could have lead this to happen? We want to know if this may have been an accident, or a simple mistake, or she did purposely—anything that can help explain what happened there."

"Well," I began, "she seemed sad. I met her at the library and she cried onto my shoulder. When we walked backed to school, I told her that she was not on the sidewalk anymore. It happened so fast that, I'm guessing here now, I blacked out. I don't remember much about what happened."

"And if we put you on record for your statement, can you back it up?"

"I logged my library card on the computer. Maybe that can help prove I was at the library. I even have my library card with me. I got a receipt as well to the time I was there." I took both items out to show as proof.

"Do you possibly know anyone that can account on your visit to the library?" Tom asked.

"Yes, Dolores Filcher. She works at the front desk and knows me well."

"All right, and if we bring you back for further questioning, can we count on you to have given us the full truth?"

"I don't see any reason to lie when someone just died right in front of me." After a while, they let me go back to class…I don't know why school wasn't canceled or stopped, but it's anybody's guess.

* * *

I went to Science and soon found out that rumors spread faster than anything imaginable. One side said I pushed her into the bus; however, the other said I did nothing about it and let her die.

No matter which side, it still doesn't help lighten the mood or get a good grip on what's realistically possible, rather than these people judging so quick to pin me as a murderer or a saint (don't know why, but go with it for now) and simply accept it without rhyme or reason, instead of asking me what happened.

I got all this from Ana, who was a very good friend of mine. I mentioned her earlier, and she at least didn't make me feel like I was public enemy #1, but rather feel sorry for me—at least, that's why I think she's acting this nice to me.

Our teacher, Mrs. King, who was a very good teacher, having such high enthusiasm with a good balance of control and free reign as you can get, was addressing the elephant in the room—_moi._

She talked to us about how we should take the time to see this as an opportunity to feel at peace with ourselves, as we are now alive and how life can easily be taken away from us—and then she lost my interest when I found out this was just clichéd bullshit, even if it was technically true. Life can easily be taken away from us in the blink of an eye. Still, I rather just have a normal day than a philosophical one that drags on like I'm in a pretentious film about purpose and choice.

Still, the fact that Lexy died didn't change the fact that today was Friday, and Friday meant we had a short quiz.

It's only ten easy questions, but I usually bring a book and it's not the case today. But it didn't matter. I was too busy thinking about how Lexy just died, and yet it made me forget about the letter I was trying to figure out who gave me it…until I reminded myself of it—

"All right, ten minutes, all are multiple choices—then pass it to the person next to you and let them grade it in pen. Pen, I remind you, so none of you can change your answer."

Idaho raised his hand and said, "What if we write our answers in pen, too?"

"Then use a different color."

He raised his hand, again, and said, "What if we don't have another color?"

"Are you seriously trying to start something?" she barked.

He stopped dead on, but it didn't help either with the quiz. I finished it in two minutes and just rested my head down on my arms, looking at the blank board, hoping to get some sort of enjoyment out of it.

After a while I felt someone poking my head and saw a piece of scrap paper that was blank. I grabbed it and flipped it to see a message:

Are you okay, Carrie?

No, I'm fucking peaches of the land of gummy-world, bullshit, or whatever realm of children fantasies. I don't know, so I just wrote back that I was fine and went back into my original position of acting stoned.

I got another tap on the head and saw another piece of scrap paper that said:

I care, Carrie. You can tell me anything.

I wrote back:

I know, Ana. I appreciate it.

But now it's not the right time to ask.

Before I knew it, time was up.

"All right, pass it to your neighbors and remain quiet so I can give you the answers, which I don't think you need, considering I let you use your notes."

Fuck me. I forget about the notes.

I graded Ana's paper and she got an eight out of ten. Looking back on my paper, I should have gotten at least a three out of ten, actually. She didn't hand it back, just yet, but knowing the answers I just wrote a couple minutes back, I only got two or three right for that whole quiz.

Jeez, I really have to get my head in the game.

I signed my name in pen to show that I corrected her paper and if I messed up on something, it's me who's to be blame, as if I hadn't had enough trouble today.

Ana passed me back my paper.

Nine out ten was the score I got. I looked at my answers and I did do some wrong which was supposed to be six out of ten, not nine.

I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to have her as a friend. She even figured out a way to softly erase some answers and barely made the original visible and the corrected answer there.

I don't know if she did this because she was sympathetic or took pity on me, but I'm glad I got the score…

Then again, it brought me back to the letter. Girls usually write in cursive, and the handwriting didn't match the same one, but it started bringing questions I should have just left very well alone.

She looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back, thinking it was polite, and started to believe I was getting paranoid.

But what the hell, I can let it slide.


	5. Chapter 5

5

I was the first out of science and went straight to chorus, which was just a holding ground for a group of aspiring singers who go into the music room and sing a bunch of pop-songs and music videos and make it as whimsical and happy as they possibly can. Problem? It's total shit. And I'm not talking about my class, no. I'm talking about this national group that resides in our school to bring media attention to young teens with so-called "talent" when all they can do with music videos is auto-tune the shit out of it and call it a "fresh beat."

I never liked the group. I choose never to mention or block any names related to it as when anyone says, it makes me want to smack the person so hard, I'd kill the fucker by breaking their neck when it went all around too fast, and too hard.

Oh well, idiots' fault for bringing it up to me.

While going through the halls, I kept seeing these teddy bears pop out of nowhere—one came out from the locker, one from the girls' bathroom (don't know if they washed their hands), one from the boys bathroom (definitely sure he didn't wash his hands or just got a massive ass-beating, whichever works best) and even from behind as they stroll down the hall like a goddamn plastic doll, thinking they're Miss Perfect, when they're far from perfection. For the love of God, I've seen girls criticize thighs—_thighs_, mind you—and will tear any girl's self-esteem if they are not, in most rational terms, "perfect" or don't reach "perfection." Even if they are to criticize, you can't pick on them since they got to you first, those horse-looking twigs.

It made me smile to know that I can still insult people and be a bitch about it.

All of a sudden, I saw Masami and Molly walk by me. They didn't say anything, and yet I think this was one of the rare occurrences they actually didn't see me. Maybe it's just my eyes playing around with me, or I'm simply denying the truth.

Regardless, I went on.

I saw our teacher Mr. Vincent talking to us about this and that and about the melody and blah blah blah. Honestly, I didn't care too much about this class, and yet it feels so forced that I have succumbed to boredom because of this.

I was next to Rachel, another good friend of mine. She was different, though. I knew her for a while, since freshman year. She kept on talking about her boyfriend named Jamie. I never figured how the hell he looked like, but I didn't care to know. All I wanted was some space, and peace and quiet, and she would do that. We were good friends, and she only talks about him when we're totally bored and…yep, that's about it.

Still, she was way better than Masami or Molly. I hated them both equally. Though it wasn't all like that.

I remember when we were in sixth grade we were good friends. I knew this. They knew this. We were good friends, but they thought of us three as great friends. I truly believed that. They would always want me in their trio, and yet they never really gave a second thought whether or not we were friends. I saw them talk about what they're going to do and such and by God…

Things leave themselves to be a mystery when forgotten. I feel this is what happened now. I thought I knew, but no more. The very sight of the three of us being friends actually seems surreal like a body horror movie.

Back to Rachel—I don't believe she's a bad person, yet she's misunderstood.

* * *

Mr. Vincent called me up and told me to sing in D flat (or something, I don't know). I sang saying "Why God? Why?" and he didn't appreciate the effort—he said I sang in E minor. I won't argue who's right, and I don't think I ever will with him. He knows his shit, and that's good enough for me.

Rachel laughed afterwards—delayed, yet still worth it. _I _appreciate the gesture coming from her.

She then came close to my ear and said, "You know, Jamie and I broke up."

I felt bad, yet I knew relationships in high school weren't going to last. Hell, the whole friends-with-benefits relationship last longer. At least you _do_ it.

"What a shame," I said politely.

"Yeah, and I was wondering if you, by any chance, have a Valentine."

_What the…_

"No, I don't."

_Don't you dare…_

"Because," she began, wearing that plastic smile that spells I'm-ready-fuck, "I was wondering if you and I were to go on a date, would you accept?"

I was—Fuck! I hate my limited vocabulary, uh—_dumbstruck—_you dumbass—when she said that. I mean, for God's sakes, I thought she had a boyfriend…wait….

"Well, uh, I don't—Are you thinking clearly? I mean, what would Jamie say?"

"Jamie would be okay if we went out. She wouldn't mind."

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me. We were playing the Pronoun Game.

"Listen, I got to be honest. I thought Jamie was a guy."

"You did?" she said, almost looking as if I have been mispronouncing something wrong this whole time and didn't know about it. "I thought you knew?"

"Oh, no, I haven't. Hell, I haven't even_ seen _Jamie. You know? _Jamie?_ That _Jamie_ we've talked about. The 'Jamie' that we never said was a 'he' or a 'she' or even a 'him' or 'her.' It was always just Jamie. Fucking Jamie, just one name, Rachel."

"Well, look, I'm sorry. I just thought you, well, didn't like guys."

"What the fuck gave you that idea?" I asked, even though I knew why. I mean, I'm no…beauty queen, I guess, and I do have a tendency to play around roughly and hang out with guys more, but in this day and age it has never come across people that I might, just might be, a tomboy (GASP!), or I wasn't interested at all in dating.

"Please, be quiet," she said softly, "you're making a scene."

(WIDE ANGLE SHOT: THE WHOLE CLASSROOM!)

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! AM I MAKING A SCENE?" I yelled out, almost as if I was trying to get some attention (if you can't pick up what I'm trying to do, your idiot bus has arrived), "ALL I DID WAS SAY NO TO YOUR PROPOSAL TO GO ON A DATE! MAYBE YOU SHOULD RECONSIDER WITH SOMEONE ELSE. YOU KNOW, _A GIRL!_ ANY GIRL INTERSTED IN GOING OUT WITH _A GIRL!"_

Some girl, I think her name was Mary, said if I could just be quiet and stop making this into a big deal.

I punched her in the nose and was taken out of class. I later realized that day Rachel had asked her out. She said yes. The fucking sympathy trick. That _vixen._ (Hey, I do know a smart word.)

* * *

**Hello, my name is EvelioandZgroup, but you probably knew that (hell, that's also my username here). Anyway, I am not dead. I'm still here. Yeah, and this should have finished back in February. Again, this is embarrassing. Still, I'm writing. And I'm happy doing what I do.**

** And I have saw that Agent BM is writing here. I'll be honest, straight-on, he sucks as a writer, but I look up and respect what he does. The amount that he writes, whether it's bad or not, he keeps going on, writing stories left and right, mostly based off something else, but hey same goes here. From That's My Boy and Shane Dawson's music video Superluv, and yes, my stories based off those are awful. Yeah, I admit it: My fan fictions are horrible, horrendous, pretentious, and downright silly. **

**Can the same be said about Intermission? Actually, the answer is no. Yeah, Carrie is pretentious, vulgar, and even a bitch here and then. But, she's a bit closer to real life. We can all believe we are better than other, simply because we stray away from acts of stupidty and popular media, but that doesn't make us better or worse. We have let ourselves believe that the world we live in is simply the way we see it. No, there's more depth to it than meets the eye. We just haven't seen it yet. Carrier represents something a bit closer in our realm, kind of like me. I don't do things like vine or online gaming videos. I do what I do, but not totally like Carrie.**

**Friends and family still strand strong as examples as outlooks to a better world, and even a hopeful future. **

**Lexboss, a true friend, has stood behind my back for the longest and I owe her a lot... which means (clever-Segway) The Love is stilt alive and we re-releasing it. We're toning it down this time for censorship, and, on account of that, Lexboss's keyboard is currently not working. But hey, I'm her beta, I'll fix that.**

**NeoNimbus and Terrence Orson are great friends and I express great gratitude towards them. They've helped me out through some bad times, and I can't thank them enough.**

**Flynn Roswell, a good friend, has helped me manage my writing better and, get this, I have allowed him to remake one of my stories. I won't tell you which one, but let the hype begin. I know it, and believe me, I saw the outline... If he can write this the way I hope he does, I will hands-down call this the best story of the archive (but that title goes to either My New Family, The Loop, or The Newcomer). **

**Speaking of which, I actually do plan to remake five stories or at least fix them up and get ready to post them out again. You can recommend any story you'd like to see me do, so don't feel restrained. My five picks are:**

**1) The Circle—It's pretty obvious why. It's one of my personal projects, and it deserves to be wrapped. I got the whole story now, I just have to write it.**

**2) I Killed Penny Fitzgerald****—Again, pretty obvious. This can be way better than expected. It was written by an amateur writer, now maybe this time I can hit a bullseye with it.**

**3) In Time, We'll Lose Him****—Jack requested this a long time ago, and it's definitely a story I would love to continue. Plus, I can do it better than expected, maybe even more.**

**4) Gumball****—Let's face it, this hits a lot of jokes straight on, left and right, but it doesn't show it well in the first two episodes. It definitely needs a reboot.**

**5) True Love****—Why? The way I see it, Gumball and Stephen need this, and I love the way I see this story coming out. If Yprockcid read this, he'd deem it a true love story, but not for these two lovebirds. **

**I also own the rights to Love Circle, so I may do that as well.**

**Another side, I'm reading soon my 50th story. That's a big milestone, but I'll admit that if I kept at my pace in 2012, I'd be at my 500th right now. But still, 50th not bad either. **

**I have one story, which I'm physically writing, called Split Track. It's about Gumball going to the future to meet his 18-year-old self, but also focuses on deeper ideas of both nostalgia and even the consequences of our choices (luckily, this will be a comedy, so thumbs-up there). It's vague right now, but trust me it gets better.**

**One last thing I want to say is I just want to say thank you for all the readers that have stuck by me through all this time. From The First Blood to Intermission. You guys rock. I can honestly say I wouldn't be here if it weren't for all you guys reading. And I'm serious, really tell me what story you want me to do. I'm more of a mature writer than I was back then. Say which story I should do and I'll see what's left of my brain that I can conjure up. **

**My name is EvelioandZgroup, and I'm signing off.**

**~ EvelioandZgroup**


	6. Chapter 6

6

I was supposed to go to reheresal in the auditorium, but I was sent to Prinicpal Brown. To be honest, you'd expect a hairy furball like him to be menacing, yet I get the feeling you'll hug the fat bastard before thinking your ABC's.

He led me to my seat, which was pointless, considering I'd fall flat on my non-exsistant ass. He sat in his desk and tried to stare me down, almost like I was a criminal. Brown can't fool me, yet he can hopelessly try.

"Do you know how hard it has been today?" he asked.

"For me, or for you?"

"Both," he said. "While you have been the recent star of rumors, you have been a reckless pit of doom."

That just sounded silly. "So, what else is _hip_, Doc? You know what I mean?"

Now he looked confused, almost as if I was acting crazy.

"Carrie, look, I know it's been a rough day for you."

"Understatement of the _fucking_ year."

"Hey!" Brown barked. "Whether it's called for or not, it doesn't give you the right to swear. Curse like that again, I'll send you down to detention for a week."

"Kind of like how you send Gumball down to detention when he burned your hair off with some kind of acid, though to be fair you did that to yourself, and you gave him eight hours of it. You're trying to send me off for a week for a curse word. What? Is this some kind of kid's show where you can show some brutal slapstick, yet foulmouth is like proclaiming yourself as a mad man?"

He looked at me, bugged-eyed now. "Why don't we keep focus on what's happening now than mindless ranting."

"Fair enough," I said.

"Right," he began as he opened an empty folder. I assumed he wanted to look professional, but he flinched and drew it away when I saw it. He cleared his throat, and said, "You have, today, been put in the middle of a bundle of situations."

"With what happened to Lexy? Why? Was she doing something she wasn't supposed to?"

"Actually, no. You see, off the record, you haven't been quite involved with students' dilemmas recently, unless you were the school's guidance couneslor."

He paused, giving me a chance to speak. All I said was I'm not.

He continued: "Mr. Small has brought to my attention that several students have bee having some issues, whether at home or with friends or even with some exams coming on."

I laughed: "Please, Bobert is the only one I can believe worrying about exams, and yet I know he doesn't stress about these things. He knows the work and isn't prone to human emotions, no offense."

"None taken, I'm not a robot."

"For a moment, I could confuse you for one."

It was a dumb joke, but he laughed nonetheless. "Still, what I'm trying to say is this: You're caught in the middle of these fiascos."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," he began, "I'm breaking a couple rules here because I know how some things can get a little crazy. What I'm trying to do is warn you."

"From who?"

"Well if I knew I'd tell you. But I don't. Small knows, and he told me this, as to them, in confidence."

"And yet, you decided to change this incident of beating a lesbian to saving me?"

"Carrie, I'm letting you go. The girl you hit wasn't bleeding. She faked it."

That...doesn't add up. "How? She couldn't have faked something like this, especially since she had to have known I was gonna hit her. And even then, she—"

"Got hit by a ghost, one that can't _physically_ touch others."

"But that still wouldn't add up—"

"Carrie!" he screamed. This actuallly brought chills, even if I didn't have blood flowing through skin. But I have ectoplasm. "Leave it be. Have your theories elsewhere. Piece it together later. Go to class. If anyone asks, you have eight hours of detention."

"Is that a little dark humor you're spreading through the air?"

"Call it whatever you want, as long as it gets a laugh out of you, and me."

* * *

I got back to class sooner than I had expected. But tension was growing. Gumball and Penny were on opposite stands of the stage with Rocky cordinating some of the backstage members on set. I was to help set the lights around for the play. All I knew about it was that it concerned about two star-crossed lovers and mindless mumbo-jumbo. They were the leads. I worked from behind.

I floated upwards and came across Darwin as he and Bobert were preparing to bring up the fake stands that were supposed to look like castles. They don't. They look like they were drawn with crayons. Which they were. Nonetheless, I went with Darwin and helped.

He saw me and smiled, "Oh, hello, Carrie. How you doing?"

"Could be worse. Still dead, but I'm not feeling pain."

He just smiled and said, "cheer up, it's Valentine's Day."

"Still?"

"What?" Darwin said.

"Nothing," I said. "So what scene are we preparing for?"

"The castle scene."

No shit. "Yeah, sorry I asked."

He just smiled again as we helped lift this up and let it stand proudly as a badly made prop. "No problem."

"Yeah," I said. "Do you know what's going on with Gumball and Penny? I heard they're not even speaking to each other."

"I don't know," he said naively. "Maybe over something stupid Gumball did."

"Why? Does he do so often?"

He laughed and smiled, "You have no idea."

* * *

Kathy and Kim walked up to me, discussing about their dates about their boyfriends, Bruce and Dante, and so forth. Afterwards, Penny walked up to me and asked for some help.

"What's the problem?"

"Nothing really," she said, "just try and tell Gumball to be careful with his lines. We don't want any accidents to happen."

"Just tell him yourself," I told her. "Cut the crap and get through this. This is school. Skip the drama and get on with it."

She stood there in silence. She finally said okay, she wi,ll.

"Really?" I said. "You're not going to try and say how, no you think Gumball is the jerk and all that blabber-mouth crap?"

"No," She said. "Not everything is like in the movies."

She walked away and started to talk to Gumball, again, and they smiled together. Whatever gets me less work, I'm all for it. Even if everyone is calm after someone actually died today. You know, this school could be just a very fucked up place.

* * *

Gumball and Penny began rehearsing their lines.

Gumball: "I can't even think about living one day without you."

Penny: "Then come with me. Nobody has to know. Not our family, not our friemds, nobody."

Gumball: "I can't. There's too much at stake. Everyone is all busted up about Lee, they forgot the pure enjoyment she brought out of others."

Penny: "Especially with Capote. He's dead, and nothing will bring him back."

Gumball: "But his legacy will, and hers will still live on."

Just before they could go on, and I could remember what the hell they would say, someone threw something at me. I checked around and saw no one around. I looked down, and even in the dark I saw the crumbled old ball of paper.

I unwrapped it, and it said:

_"Roses are red/Violets are blue/Sugar is sweet and Carrie is the one for me."_

It was written in crayon, and I thought of this person as a cheesy bastard.


	7. Chapter 7

7

You know, it occurred to me that I forgot to mention what class I had last period. For the sake of continuity, I'll tell you what it is, even if you don't care, I'm the narrator so it's my story and I say what I say, even if you can assume it was drama and whatnot. It doesn't even have to be true. As long as you're being entertained, I could make up a story about a spaghetti monster and it'll fly like nonfiction. It _was_ drama, by the way.

* * *

Walking to math wasn't much of a pain, with the exception of people staring at me. I saw Tobias looking scared, Idaho stunned like someone just shocked his potatoes, Anton went pale, despite being toasted, and puns along the way. I don't know whether they're scared of me for punching Masami in the face (or with a book, if you want to get technical), pitied me for being there when...I forgot her name—_Lucy?_ That's what I'm going with—died in a tragic way (or maybe scared, thinking I _pushed_ her, forgetting my inconsistent ghost logic), or scared, again, that I punched... Masami #2, which is what I'll call her, seeing as though she has no personality outside this story.

Anyway, I got into class when my teacher—shit! I forgot to tell you my drama teacher's name...Oh fuck it, you won't remember him anyway—Mrs. Smith, who I will not give you a description about her as she is literally just a cat. Yep, a blue cat, wearing a dress that reminds me of a female Gumball... Or just Gumball.

"Okay class, take your seats," she began, as she passed out each of us an assignment, even if she was pregnant. After she was finished, she wrote on the board with a red marker and—Oh, you know what's coming.

"Before we take our pop quiz, I'd like to take a moment and talk about," pausing to write, "love."

The class groaned, except for Teri, who was busy writing in her notebook. I don't know about what, but being a cynic doesn't mean I should care about what she writes. Or does it? I don't know.

"I wanted to take a moment and write about something we sometimes take for granted."

"What do you mean?" Penny said, and I forget to mention she has the same class as I do for math. So does Masami, Sarah, the other Sarah (the pink cat, or the yellow ice cream cone, I don't know), Tobias, and Darwin. No Gumball, but it could be worse. I've survived more chapters without him.

"Well, I'm glad you asked," she said. "Love has been used in so many mediums and art forms, and why shouldn't it. Love is the most common emotion we have, and it can be such a joy when you have it. It can be love for another person, a passion towards a hobby, a longing for paradise, hope for something better. Love is limitless.

"Now, does anyone have a special someone waiting for them on Valentine's Day?"

"Wouldn't that be against the rules to ask students about their personal lives?" I asked.

Masami laughed and said, "She just doesn't want people to know she has the hots for Gumball."

That just pissed me off. "How about you just shut up before I freeze your butt and smash it with a sledgehammer?"

"Oooh, violent, huh?" Tobias snickered.

I turned over and said, "You too, you limp-dicked pervert. You probably want to know who hasn't got someone an arm around their waist so you can find an easy target to score."

Everyone stood silent. Looking back at all these people and you see how far they've gone to all of this, and you realize how far they're going to shit.

"Carrie," Mrs. Smith said, "just _shut up_ already. I heard about what happened to you, and I'm not going to give you once of sympathy for your dumbass. You have to be such a brute that it never comes across that maybe you should at least do something worthwhile. I mean, come on, just quit it. You never have a good thought, huh? Never thought about just having a smile? You think you know pain? Huh? You think I like having you be this mean-spirited and can't just have a single nice thought? Just one?"

I thought about it, trying to find one nice thought. All it came down to was... "No."

"No?" she said. She waited for a moment, avoiding eye contact with me. I felt embarrassed now. This... was out of focus. This just got to me like a badly dubbed anime. There I go again, making references that can catch the eye, but at what cause? I mean, this was never my intention. The way I first saw this was me just diving through life with both the fun and bore of it coming down on me. So far it left me in a state of being a downright bitch. That's not who I am. I complain yeah, but I have reason. No. No, not even that helps me out here. I got filled with so much hate that it's not even funny anymore. In the time of a few hours, this seems unreasonable, but so what? I had friends... maybe not, but hell I knew I had some people who were willing to back me up...

"I'm sorry," I said, and she looked at me, this time with pure shock. I'm not going to act like I haven't been like this before, but I don't really apologized for things. Not a lot, but a few times I've said it. And I meant it, really. "I'll just shut up, or just quiet down."

I paused, and I didn't look around. I already felt the pressure of people staring at me, I didn't need more of it.

"Thank you," she said. "Now, as I was saying—"

She started to ramble on about what love and whatnot. I zoned out for her speech because it would indicate that I learned something about this. I didn't. But hell, I'll just improve. I know it's the same thing, but it's different words, so give me that.

Someone passed me a note, and it read: "I hate to be where you're at."

I wrote back: "Physically or metaphorically?"

I passed it back. Nobody gave me the note back.

* * *

After her speech, and the assignment that had nothing to do with what she said, Mrs. Smith gave us some free time. I just sat in my seat, considering the fact that after what happened, I needed some space as much as others needed time away from me. That wasn't the case.

Darwin pulled up a seat next to me and asked if I was okay.

I choked up on my spit, which I don't know how that's possible, but do you even care at this point?

"I'm all right, thank you."

"Okay," he said, again smiling. "I asked because I wanted to know if you were all right."

"I am all right, it's just that I have been having a rough day, as you should know."

"Yeah, with what happened with Lexy. Actually, you remind me of someone I knew. Her name was Candice. She's a fun, trustworthy, and mature girl. You being down this whole time reminds me of her when she had this big crush on Leslie."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she's actually Gumball's sister. Ours, really. She helped make us one big, happy family."

"Wow," I said, impressed (why?...). "How come I haven't heard of her?"

"She died," he said.

"What?"

"Yeah. Slit her wrists and drown in her own blood."

That... I don't know. That's just messed up. "Ain't that a little dark? I mean, you said it like nothing. And, Jesus, that's horrible."

"Yeah, it was. Apparently some people thought of her as a nuisance, so they kept saying bad things about her, here and there, and at age eleven... we cremated her, and we have her urn in our living room."

"Damn," I said. "I'm very sorry. How come I haven't heard of her."

"We keep things in private."

"But that doesn't make an awful lot of sense."

"I don't know. Gumball knows how to explain this better than I do. So much for not getting peopled killed here and there."

"Yeah—Wait, what?"

"Huh?" he said, just before Mrs. Smith was handing us out some candy. Mine was "Candy" candy. What a weird name for something.

"Anyway, I just remembered," Darwin started as he opened his small box of Jerks, "there's this new kid moving in here."

"Really? Who would want to come live in Elmore?"

"I don't now. But quite frankly I'm really excited."

"Sure, just don't make him feel like a newcomer. Make him feel like one of us."

"Like family?" he said.

He didn't get the joke. "Eh, whatever you like to call it."

"Yeah," he said. "Still, are the rumors true?"

I knew there was a catch. "No, I'm not going out with Gumball. We don't even like each other, that way. The mere idea of the two of us is sick. Heck, I wouldn't even be able to please him and—"

Darwin cut me off to say, "No, I meant about you and Lexy. Did you push her?"

"Good God, no, I didn't. I didn't even touch her. I was walking her back to school and she seemed upset and all and then was all high on daisies and crap and then she let herself get hit. That's all. Plus, I can't even touch people."

"Because you're a ghost?"

"Yes, but that doesn't stop people from assuming the worst."

"I believe you," he said.

"Thanks a lot," I said.

"Oh yeah," he said, taking something out, "somebody asked me to give you this. I don't know who but they expressed you needed to read this." He held out a slip of paper with my name on it.

I grabbed it and read it:

"I hope you'll give me an answer for the dance. I really do like you."

Fucking bullocks.

"Darwin, can I ask you something."

"Why? Was is it?"

"Nobody has mentioned so far anything about the dance."

"Yeah, so? Everyone has been bummed out because of Lexy."

"Did anyone know her?"

"Not exactly, but you can't rule her out. Plus, I heard they're making the dance free in light of the events. They're even dedicating it to her."

"How nice. I just hope these rumors about me die out."

"I think they will, Carrie. And if they don't, at least you got a friend who cares about you." He smiled when he said that.

The bell rang and we had to get going.


	8. Chapter 8

8

I decided to skip eighth period for today. I went to my teacher and said I wasn't feeling well and I need to go to the nurse. I just came in here to let her know. She let me go, and I walked downstairs to the first floor and went to the nurse. It's ironic our nurse is a Band-Aid and can't even heal herself.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

"I'm not feeling well," I said. "I think I have—"

I just threw up right in front of her. I don't know whether to be alarmed or thankful for that.

"Jeez," she said. "What got into you?"

"Life?" I said, trying to say something smart.

"Do you want me to call home?"

"No, I can walk back."

"Nonsense," she said, "I'll call them. What's your name."

"Carrie Krueger."

"Just sit down there and we'll wait and see."

* * *

After she called my parent's house, I had to wait around sitting (or pretending to) on a chair. I wasted twenty minutes there doing nothing. That was until I saw these two guys messing around in the hall. One was this tall one-eyed Cyclops that seemed to be flying around like a monkey, or skipping with his shoelaces tied down, next to a short, blob of clay.

The one-eyed guy started to break dance while saying, "Beat that, short stop! I bet your mother hasn't had a man move like that in bed?"

Then he looked at me. "Hey-hey, it's the Blair bitch!"

"Fuck you, you cretin!" I yelled.

"Whoa," he said in a slow, raspberry-like voice, "you don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Me? It's Rob. Jeez, why can't the fuck anyone remember my name?"

"Maybe because you leave so little an impact in their life they don't give a shit what your dick size is."

"Fuck you," he said. "So why are you here, you flat-cheated airbag?"

"I'm sick. I threw up when I saw how little your balls were when they found it."

"Oh, harsh-harsh. No, really, why?"

"I did threw up," I said.

"Because of how massive my balls were?" he said.

That made me laugh. "Yeah, that's it. Anyway, why aren't you in class?"

"I got lunch eighth, so does my stress ball over here."

His "stress ball" only nodded at me to show he understood him, but then eyed on Rob for saying that.

"All right. So, you guys going to the dance?"

"Nah," he said, "that's just for a bunch of teenybopper who want to get it in and look like _HONK! HONK!_ sluts out there."

"Charming," I said, "or maybe because you ain't got dates."

"Pssh, we could get anybody we want, all we got to do is say, 'Hey ladies, it's Rob and Silent Clay, recognize.' And by then, they'll be doing a little... you get the point."

"Yeah," I said, confused. "So, what reason do you have of being here?"

"What?" he said.

"You know, why come near the nurse's office when you could have stayed at lunch?"

"We like to browse around, you know? It's boring there. They make you do your homework and shit, man."

"And the people of World War II wept for your misery."

"Pssh, don't give me your pity, bitch."

Finally, the red ball of clay said, "You like Gumball."

"What?" I said.

"The fish? You got a thing for the two."

"No, they're my friends."

"Look, you can deny a lot of things, but eventually you got let things be and accept what's going to happen. Penny and Gumball like each other, and it seems like you've just dived yourself in a middle of the issue."

"Ignore him," said Rob. "He thinks he's so high and mighty when he starts talking. Like the world has to stop to bear what comes out his and expect Mozart to cry like a bitch for him."

"You know what? Fuck you. I'm proving a point here, and you hide behind your macho-man crap, but at least I'm not a fucking cynical stoner."

"Yeah," I said, still confused. "We'll, thanks, and are you going to see the play?"

"What's it about?" Rob said.

"A love story," I said. "It has Gumball and Penny as the two lovers."

"Shit," he said, like it was an embarrassment to even consider, "unless her shell cracks open and we get to see some titties, count me the fuck out."

"See you, Carrie," the red clay said.

"How do you know—?"

"Don't worry about it. Important plot points doesn't hold continuity, its the characters themselves that drive to their happy ending. And Rob knows. He jerks off to you, late at night."

"Get the fuck out of here!" Rob barked, hitting him upside the head. "Clayton thinks he's the shit when he opens his fatass mouth and shit, don't listen to him."

He walked off, and Clayton said, "Stop fooling around and already end this damn thing. It's not like it's going anywhere."


	9. Chapter 9

9

School was over. All that was left was the Valentine's Day dance... Fuck.

* * *

The nurse finally told me if my parents weren't coming, I can go on ahead and leave. I knew my parents weren't going to show. Valentine's Day was this special ritual for them, They would go on and on about how they met at a village in the 1800s. From what I could tell, they would talk about my Uncle Henry and yada-yada nonsense and hijinks ensue.

Anyway, I finally got them to let me go. You wouldn't believe the amount of time and effort I had to put in, only to realize that they could have let me go by myself all along because I'm "not among the living". Assholes.

After I left, I saw everyone rushing out through all the exits. I saw animals lining up against a door like they were in a pigpen running away from blades, inevitably sealing their fate. Kind of funny, really. Some ass-cracks from people who'd try to squeeze in through the door but fell. Nice asses, yes, but it's better to keep hidden from where you shit out off.

"Hey," I heard, coming from a familar voice. I turned to see Penny. She looked pissed (if you wanted some artsy-fartsy writing about her eyes and mouth, look up porn stories).

"Hey," I said.

"Have you see Gumball?"

"No. I skipped eighth period because I threw up."

"Threw up? What are you, anorexic?"

"I'm a ghost! How can I be anorexic when I don't have the stomach for it?"

"That's what make you anorexic."

"Ah, the hell with it. What else do you want?"

Her anger resorted. Shyness emerged. "I don't know. It's just...I got so mad at Gumball today that I wanted to talk him. I wanted to apologize to him."

"Why? I think both of you were just letting off steam. It's natural."

"I know, but when I saw his act." She paused, but not for long. "I wanted to see him like that, again. I feel there's too much tension between us."

"What do you mean?"

She looked around. "Can we talk somewhere else?"

"Where?"

* * *

We walked around the back of the school in silence. I wanted to try and start conversation, but many movies always have the two main characters talk when they reach their destination. Sucks for them. And me.

Penny led me around the playground by the basketball court.

"You could have said we were going here."

She turned. "Well, I'm sorry, but this is some heavyhanded stuff I want to talk about. I wanted to make sure that everyone left. I wanted it to be out front, but there were people. I kept going until I found a spot no one would be around."

"All right, I guess. But what's heavyhanded about what you wanted to talk about?"

She waited for a bit. "I feel confused. My stomach's been acting up, I'm not eating—"

"And you call _me_ anorexic."

She frowned at me, but quickly went away. "So, I wasn't eating, I was hot all over, I started to feel claustrophobic, jeez, I even felt like throwing up." She started to look away from me, not even showing me her face anymore. "I just had this dream about the friends I have. I saw them all die. All of them just vanished like dust. Do you know what happened next?"

I wanted to say a joke, but I kept silent.

"I stood there, feeling woozy and doozy and..."

"Penny, I'm sorry, but you gotta get to the point. I'm mean, this is fluff. It doesn't mean anything to mean. You're just hiding from the problem, really."

She looked at me in the eye, and she came walking closer to me. I didn't move, feeling...I don't know, pity. She got up right to my face.

"Do you feel that?"

All I could feel was her breath. Warm and nasty. Smelled like rotting fruit.

"I feel so..._tight!_ I'm _dying_ here."

That offended me. "I _am_ dead, you moron! It's the equivalent of calling some of a certain race a bad name."

"Carrie, I'm scared. Everything is closing in, like walls coming in closer to each other."

"But what does this have to do with Gumball?" I yelled. I just snappped, really.

"Because...I think I_ like him_ like him."

I shrugged it. "No shit, Sherlocks. Everyone knows."

She looked shocked, mouth open wide enough to do God knows what with it. "Really?"

"Yes! The only person who doesn't know is the dumb goofball that got me a crappy day!"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't ask." If she wants know, she'll have to read this bullshit story.

"Well, Gumball isn't mean."

"But that doesn't neccesarily mean he's a good person."

"Oh, really? Isn't he the guy who helped you with that eating prpblem you had?"

"But that wasn't his choice. Darwin put him on the spot. And I took advantage of it."

"So does that make you a bad person?"

"Oh! I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of that. Yeah, I wasn't aware of the consequences back then. But I'm not saying I'm a good person. I'm just saying he got me in such...deep shit. I mean, with Lexy, and all what's happening today."

"What? He did that? He wanted to give you, and you alone, a bad day?"

"All right! Fuck! Fucky-fucky fuck fuck! Shut up!"

"Hey, screw you, Carrie! Do you think anyone would listen to your crap all day if they had a choice? No, they'd see you as a pretentious bitch! I'm opening up to you about my personal life and you spit on it like it meant nothing."

"It does mean nothing! What don't you understand?"

"I can't figure out if I _love_ Gumball and hate you or love _you_ and hate Gumball!"

That's the worst thing she could say. I mean, I didn't know. I mean, I don't really see her going down on someone that's a girl, except maybe with Jamie. Although I see Jamie going down on her than vice versa. Either way, back to reality. We're losing focus here.

"What?" That's all I can say, and really amy writer's response to such exposition.

She laughed a bit. "That felt good. Letting that out. Feel like I lost ten pounds."

"Because of anorexia, but what do you mean? What the hell was that? You just dropped the bomb on me, and now you're changing the subject."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're confusing me more than Lexy did."

"How did she confuse you?"

"Don't. Just don't. You doing it again."

Her smile cracked wider than before. "Noo. I really am invested."

"Then I'll tell you later, after you tell me what's really going on."

She waited for a moment. Then: "I was confused. I liked you two as friends. But I always liked Gumball more, and I wanted to him to be my boyfriend, his girlfriend. But I started getting jealous with you and him, and I thought about the possibilty that maybe I was using my feelings for Gumball as a distraction for my true feelings."

I couldn't help it. I started laughing, and she looked pissed again. "Hey! I just opened myself up for you and you're laughing at me."

"Because," I said, ending my laugh, "there's nothing that would infer you to like me. I mean, come on. You just jumped at it, out of nowhere, even. And it doesn't make sense if you like me. I think you're just getting too paranoid with this whole thing. Hell, none of this serves any purpose."

"Carrie, I know it seems hard to take—"

"No, just doesn't make any sense. Not one bit. Hell, I haven't read this much bullshit since _The Girls' Sleepover_."

"But it's true!"

"All right, how about this: say I let the suspension of disbelief go and believe you. And now, look at what you're overlooking: Gumball likes you, too. He always has. Go with him. The dance is at 6 or some shit. Just go! Call him up, say your date blew you off—"

"Who blew me off?"

"Bitch, don't start. Just say your date blew you off and ask if he wants to go with you. Do it or not, he'll be at the dance and you two can have your sappy-teen romance shit and live the rest of your lives in ignorance."

It took her a while to take it all in. Finally, she said, "All right. Fine. I'll do it. I'll ask Gumball to the dance. And you know what?"

"What?"

She ran towards me and kissed me on the lips. I don't know if she went through, but if she didn't, that was a perfect stop. She pulled and said, "thanks for everything." And left.

I said to myself, "How does that help me? Your breath tastes like shit!"


End file.
